Once More, With Feeling
by Smackalicious
Summary: Chapter 8 added January 20th. Stottlemeyer asks Monk something he's been wondering for awhile...
1. Prologue & May I Have This Dance?

Once More, With Feeling

PG-13

Drama/Romance

Summary: An annual charity ball leads to romance for none other than Adrian and Sharona.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters...

Prologue

In between the pre-moistened wipes and the dust-free tables lived a lonely man. His only real friend was the can of Lysol he kept in his kitchen, under the sink, to the right of the pipes, perfectly proportioned to the can of Lysol he kept in his bathroom.

Of course, no one _really_ understands him. It was probably because of Trudy's death, they liked to say. He felt responsible, and that's what sent him over the edge. That isn't what happened, not really. Sharona saw as much when they visited his brother.

He led such a sad life. So afraid to let anyone get close, to really get inside the real Adrian. The only person that knew _that_ Adrian was Trudy, and now she was gone. So he continues his daily routine – sweep, dust, mop, and clean the windows – until he feels the comfort and need to open up to someone.

Oh, his psychiatrist doesn't count. He gets paid to listen to people's problems, but don't we all? What about Sharona? You ask. What of her? She's his _nurse_, and, more recently, assistant. She complains enough without having to listen to him talk about the stain on the living room carpet one more time.

All right, let's talk about Sharona for awhile. Sure, she acts like she could care less about the minor problems that annoy him, but if he were to confide in her… She _would_ listen. She _knows _him, and she knows how hard it would be for him to open up to someone, let alone her, with her constant whining and badgering.

Don't get me wrong – Sharona is as great as they come, she just has the kind of personality where you really don't want to piss her off. Most men would kill to take her out, too. With a body like hers, and the tight, short, Lycra outfits she wears, any straight man would be crazy to NOT want to.

That's why no one understood him. He worked side by side with her for 24 hours a day at times, yet he never mentioned being attracted to her, not even physically. Granted, he wouldn't admit if he were, so…who's to say he's not?

Chapter 1: May I Have This Dance?

It was the 12th Annual San Francisco Police Department's Charity Ball, and although Monk and Sharona weren't officially members of the police department, they were called in on enough cases to be cordially invited by Captain Stottlemeyer.

Of course, Monk didn't really want to go. There were too many people; the music was too loud… But Sharona insisted that they both go, even if he spent the entire night nervously wiping sweat off his forehead. The captain had taken the courtesy to invite them, after all. The least they could do was make an appearance.

The pair walked into the plush dining room of La Scala, an upscale restaurant on the city's south side. The dining room was lavishly decorated in hues of burgundy and gold, and a few couples were waltzing to the sounds of an orchestra that was brought in especially for the event.

"Wow, would you look at this," Sharona breathed, awestruck by the beauty of it all. She had never really had the chance to attend anything as high-class as this ball since…well, ever. The richness exuded by everything just blew her away.

Sharona turned to Monk, who was picking invisible lint from the tuxedo she had taken him to get. "What's wrong?" she asked patiently. She wasn't about to let anything ruin her evening, especially not Monk.

"You know how I feel about all this, Sharona," he confided. "I don't know why this couldn't have been held somewhere else… without the massive crowd… and the music."

Sharona rolled her eyes. "It's a ball, Adrian. People are supposed to dance. You can't dance without music. Plus, it's for charity." She scanned the dance floor and soon saw Captain Stottlemeyer and his wife, Karen. "Hey, there's the captain. Let's go say hi." She grabbed Monk's hand before he could say anything and headed across the spansive dining room.

The captain turned and saw them heading over, and managed to worm his way out of Karen's grip. "Monk, Sharona, glad you could make it."

Karen ran up behind him, a hand-held camcorder in her hand. "Leland, could you say something meaningful about Adrian and Sharona for me?"

"What are you working on now, Karen?" Sharona asked. Monk was using the lens of the camera as a mirror and fixing his hair.

Karen brought the camcorder to her side and responded, "It's a new documentary on the police department. I mean, since that last one went to pieces and all."

Sharona nodded thoughtfully. "And I'm sure 'Leland' here would love to say something meaningful about Adrian and me." She laughed sweetly, knowing it would do nothing but annoy the captain.

Karen turned to her husband expectantly. "Oh, would you really, dear? It would mean so much to me."

Stottlemeyer shrugged defeatedly. "Sure. Why not. I'm sure I could tell you a lot of interesting things about those two." He shot a triumphant smile at Sharona, who smirked and shook her head.

Sharona turned to Monk again, who was now wiping some confetti into a tidy pile in the center of a table. "Adrian," Sharona groaned. He looked up at her innocently. "Can't you just try to have fun? That's what this night is supposed to be about."

"I-I don't know how to have fun," he admitted, turning his hands upwards in apology.

"C'mon. I'll show you," Sharona insisted, grabbing his hand once again.

"What…what are you doing?" he asked her nervously.

"We're at a ball, Adrian," she announced. "_We_ are going to dance."


	2. A Perfect Fit

Chapter 2: A Perfect Fit

Monk paled at Sharona's words. He hadn't _danced_ danced since his wedding. Even then, he didn't really want to. Dancing was far too intimate of an act to be doing in front of other people. If you were going to dance in public with someone else, you may as well be naked, too.

Nevertheless, Sharona was forcing him to dance. They took the traditional stance for waltzing, with their right hands clasped, his left hand at her waist (barely), and her left hand on his shoulder.

The orchestra began playing a flowing melody and Sharona leaned in and told him, "You lead."

"Lead?" he asked her. It had been so long since he danced with a woman, he had forgotten how.

"Yeah, usually the guy sta- forget it. _I'll _lead," Sharona sighed. She took a step backwards while Monk just stood there. She stopped and looked at him, and though she was losing patience, tried to be calm while telling him, "You have to take a step forward when I take a step back. With the opposite foot that I used."

"Sharona, I-I don't think this is such a good idea," he muttered, turning red.

"Adrian, it's just a dance," she said softly. "Nobody is paying any attention to us, and if they are, they're probably drunk and won't remember any of this in the morning." That solicited a small smile from Monk, and Sharona continued. "Besides, most of the people here aren't great dancers. Look at Disher."

They looked over to where Randy was, to see him trying to impress a group of ladies with a horrible rendition of The Robot.

"Oh, God, that should be outlawed," Monk announced, turning back to face Sharona. "Do you think it's possible for him to arrest himself?"

Sharona chuckled. "Sometimes I wish he would." She looked at Monk with a smile on her face. "Are you willing to give this a try?"

Monk rolled his shoulder thougtfully. "I-I guess I could try, I guess," he trailed off.

"Great!" Sharona beamed. The orchestra began playing another piece, this time Claude Debussy's 'Claire De Lune.' As the pianist's fingers walked across the keys, Sharona looked up into Monk's chocolate eyes. He returned the gaze, and staring into pools of aqua, found himself transferred to a completely different realm, one where he was a "normal" man.

He unconsciously gathered Sharona closer to him, and she shivered in delight as his hand trailed down her spine. She met his eyes again, as they flowed across the dance floor as one. Their steps were flawless. If he wouldn't have been so lost in the moment, Monk would've been proud of the symmetry of their dancing.

As it was, he was taken back to a time, a time when he was actually happy. A time when he was in love. Maybe he was in love now. The only one who knew for sure was Monk himself.

He attempted to bring himself back to reality, but then he made the mistake of looking into Sharona's eyes again. That timeworn expression about the eyes being the windows to the soul…Monk knew it was true when he looked into Sharona's oceans. They acted as a mirror – reflecting his raw emotions, ones he usually kept catalogued and filed away under 'PRIVATE.'

He felt Sharona press her face against his tuxedo and flinched at first, but then relaxed as she settled there. His hand was getting a little clammy, but that was the farthest thing from his mind at that moment.

He was dancing with Sharona, and…and when she leaned into him…they fit. They fit like the perfect pair of shoes, they fit the way those Russian dolls fit together. It was…perfect.

This time, when he looked down at her and she up at him, he didn't resist.

He leaned towards her, taking in the scent of the strawberry-scented shampoo she always used, which mingled with a soft rose perfume she must have put on especially for the ball. She usually smells like strawberries and wipes, Monk was thinking, but then he realized what he had originally set out to do. Sharona was giving him a cute little baffled look, and he smiled slightly at it, bringing his hand up to her cheek.

The look on her face now said, "What the hell are you doing?" but then it turned into a look of realization and want.

"Adrian?" she questioned softly, startling him, even though he was looking right at her when she said it.

"What? What do you want?" he asked nervously.

"I-I thought," she stumbled, turning red, "I thought you were going to, you know…"

"No, I don't know," he replied honestly. He had never seen her act this way around him before. She was usually the fearless one. If she started being scared of things…he would have to find a new nurse. Either that or marry her. He had to find out why she was acting bashful. "You thought I was going to…"

She rolled her eyes and shrugged. They were still holding on to each other. "I thought you were going to kiss me." She laughed nervously, trying to cover up her disappointment.

She was having a hard time believing how she was feeling. She _wanted_ him to kiss her. She knew it was completely pointless to be thinking that – it was a miracle she got him to dance with her in the first place. Expecting a kiss would be _way _too much to ask.

"Sharona," Monk said, capturing her attention. She looked up into his eyes again – _oh, her eyes _– and gave him a questioning look. "May-maybe I was."


	3. Talking About Talking

Chapter 3: Talking About "Talking"

Sharona blinked rapidly in succession, blown away by his words. 'He has to be joking. There's absolutely _no_ way he was going to kiss me. This is Adrian we're talking about,' she thought to herself. She turned away from him, not wanting him to see the effect his words had on her.

"Sharona?" he questioned nervously. She ignored him and continued to think about his words as he wondered if he had made the right decision in telling her.

He _was_ going to kiss her. He had thought about it, at least. That meant a lot, considering his phobia of germs. Maybe he was getting over his fear of germs – no, that wasn't it. He still had the urge to sterilize everything he owned before he used it. Maybe it was just Sharona.

He raised his eyes to look at her. She did the same from where she was standing. She looked so beautiful tonight. She usually looked beautiful, but tonight... Monk was surprised Disher hadn't made his way over to be shot down by her yet again.

Sharona hesitantly took a step towards Monk. She didn't want to scare him off, and she was afraid she might have already done that by turning her back on him. But, to be completely honest, what he said scared the hell out of her. She wasn't ready for this. She wasn't ready for him to kiss her.

"Adrian?" she asked softly, lightly laying her hand on his arm. "I-I'm sorry."

Monk looked confused. "Sorry for what? I don't understand."

"I didn't mean to turn away from you," she explained. She let out a deep breath and continued. "What you said, about kissing me, did you really mean that?"

Now Monk looked scared. "I-I-I..." he stammered.

"Because if you did mean it," she quickly put in, "I'm okay with it." He looked at her with wide eyes. "Yeah, I know it's a little weird. But I can't let you _not_ let go of your fears. I'm your nurse, after all. If you're ready to," she gulped, "kiss me, then I'm going to have to say, go for it."

Monk was slowly turning the color of a ripe tomato, and he was rubbing his hands nervously on his pants. He looked down to see that he was getting sweat all over and started panicking. "Oh, God...there's a stain...I need to get it out." He started rubbing his pants more furiously, this time attempting to remove the stain.

"Adrian, Adrian," Sharona calmed, quickly coming over and taking his hands. "Look at me." He looked up, a frightened and sad look in his eyes. He looked like a little boy when he looked at her. It wasn't the first time she had seen him like this, and it probably wouldn't be the last. "Adrian, I think maybe we should get out of here, call it a night. What do you think?"

He looked embarrassed as he responded, "No, no, I'm fine now. You wanted to come, so we should stay, even though I ruined your night and you probably _want_ to leave now."

"Adrian, I think we'd both feel a lot better if we went home and changed," she insisted softly. "And...and I think we need to talk."

Monk swallowed nervously. He _knew_ he shouldn't have said anything about how he was going to kiss her! Now she wanted to "talk," and he knew that when she said talking, she meant "talking." All women did that. "We need to talk." Well, we're talking right now, aren't we?

He looked into Sharona's questioning face and said, "Maybe you're right. I don't really like this tuxedo, anyway."

Sharona smiled slightly. "Let's go tell the captain we're going."

"No, Sharona, we can't do that," Monk insisted. "He'll want to know why, and if we tell him the truth...trust me, we should just sneak out of here unnoticed."

"Unnoticed?" Sharona echoed. "With you? That's about the same probability as me actually going on a date with Disher." They both looked over at Randy, who was hanging around the punch bowl, looking forlorn.

"So we can just leave without saying anything," he suggested, shrugging. "Everyone'll figure it was an emergency."

"And then what would we tell the captain when he asks why we left?" Sharona asked, then sighed. "You know what? I don't care what he thinks. Let's go." She grabbed Monk by the arm before he could protest and they left, with Captain Stottlemeyer and his wife watching curiously.

"Where do you suppose they're going?" the captain asked.

"Isn't it obvious, Leland?" Karen asked dreamily. "They're in love! They probably wanted to go somewhere they could be alone."

Stottlemeyer laughed. "Monk and Sharona? In love? What's in that punch you've been drinking?"

Karen ignored his insult and insisted, "Didn't you see them dancing together? They were completely lost in each other. I even thought he was going to kiss her."

He appeared thoughtful and then nodded slowly. "I never thought it was possible. Those two fight like cats and dogs. But, he depends on her for everything. It would make sense for him to be in love with her, but why the hell would Sharona be in love with him?"

"You don't choose who you fall in love with, Leland," Karen informed him. "It just happens."

He smiled. "You are a very smart woman," he told his beaming wife. "Shall we dance?"

Karen nodded happily, took his arm, and they headed onto the dance floor.

Meanwhile, Monk and Sharona were sharing an awkward car ride to Monk's apartment. They were both a little on edge from what had happened (or what had almost happened) at the ball, and neither one of them wanted to fess up to the possible feelings that may be festering inside themselves, longing to burst out and completely alter the way they both led their lives.

But, let's be honest here. The feelings _were_ acknowledged in some form when he thought about kissing her and she thought about wanting him to kiss her. The only question now was if they were going to admit those feelings to themselves, and, eventually, to each other.

For now, they continued to ride in silence, the only sound being the slap of the windshield wipers on the windshield, for it had started raining once they were on the road.

Sharona signaled and pulled off the road to park in front of Monk's apartment.

Monk set his hands on his thighs and said, "Well, thanks for the ride. I'll see you tomorrow," and went to open the door when Sharona stopped him.

"We're not done yet," she insisted, halting him. "We still have to talk."

Monk closed his eyes, disappointed that she had actually remembered their purpose for leaving.

"Look," she started once she saw his face, "I know this is awkward, but I really think we need to talk about it. It could affect our working relationship otherwise."

"I don't know what to tell you, Sharona. I guess...I guess I got caught up in the moment. Those things happen," Monk said without feeling.

Sharona remained silent, then when he was about to open the door again, softly replied, "Not to you."

He let his hand fall back to his lap again. She got him. She always did. He might've been a detective – possibly the best in the SFPD – but she always knew when to call his bluff.

He turned back to her. "Let me go get changed, and then we can go...talk."


	4. Step By Step

Chapter 4: Step By Step

Half an hour later, Monk returned to a very bored Sharona, who was listening to the radio and filing her nails. She reached for her seat belt as he climbed into the station wagon.

"It's about time," she said as she started the car. "What'd you do – vacuum the entire apartment while you were up there?"

"You're funny, Sharona," Monk chuckled. "That would take a lot longer than half an hour to do."

"You don't say," Sharona said dryly. She suddenly turned to him, asking, "Where do you want to go?"

Monk was a tad thrown off by that question. "I...I thought we were just going to your house. I don't want to go anywhere public."

"Why – intend on getting frisky?" she teased him.

Monk turned bright red again. "N-n-no."

"I was just joking, Adrian," she assured him. "I know you wouldn't...look, I just think we need to get this all out in the open. We can't be keeping secrets from each other. I know essentially everything about you, and I have to admit I haven't really been forthcoming about myself..."

"Sharona?" Monk interrupted nervously. She glanced over at him with raised eyebrows. "Could we please wait until we're not in a moving vehicle to talk about this?"

Sharona chuckled to herself. "Sure. I can wait." She was thinking to herself how she had already waited for months, maybe years, to tell him some of the things he didn't know about her. There was so much to Sharona Fleming, so much that nobody ever saw. What if she was just a scared little girl, hiding inside the body of a fearless woman? She told herself that she had to be brave, she had to hide her fear. She had to do it for Benjy. And for Adrian.

She couldn't deny it. Adrian was an integral part of her life. Everything she did, she thought about him. She thought about his reaction before buying that new stereo she had her eye on. She knew he didn't listen to much music, but that didn't mean he wouldn't have some comment on the color or the size or where she put it. She had considered buying it and putting it somewhere obvious, like the kitchen table, just to see the look on his face.

That was how much she thought of him. It was impossible not to. Since they _were_ so intertwined, this talk she had suggested seemed the most logical thing to do. She smirked to herself as she thought of the irony of the situation.

Suddenly, they had reached her house. She let out a shaky breath as she turned off the engine. It was ridiculous how nervous she was about this! She spent almost all her time with him, so she felt she should be completely at ease getting this off her chest. But, after tonight...their relationship was going to change, and no one knew how or to what degree just yet.

They slipped out of her car and headed for the house. Sharona planned the order of things in her head as she walked: go inside and turn on the lights, invite Adrian to make himself comfortable (in the living room, preferably (living rooms were warmer, cozier places, which made it easier to spill your guts) while she checked her answering machine, then she would go change into something more comfortable (and maybe – just _maybe_ – a little revealing...after all, if things were going to change between them, who knows what could happen).

After all that, they could get down to business. But first, all the steps had to be played out in perfect sequence.

Step 1: Sharona and Monk stepped into Sharona's house and Monk stepped aside as Sharona flicked a number of switches to illuminate the house. She walked over to the kitchen table and set her purse down as Monk watched nervously, as if expecting her to sprout wings and fly away.

Step 2: Sharona spotted the look on his face and laughed, startling him. "Are you thirsty? I think I have a bottle of Sierra Springs in the refrigerator," she offered.

"No, no, I think I'll just...not drink anything," he insisted, still looking mighty uncomfortable.

"Alright," Sharona replied, trying to ignore his nervousness. "Why don't you take a seat then? I have to check my answering machine."

As she turned her back to him, he looked first at the table, which seemed like a safe choice – how close can you get to someone when you're sitting at a table? -, then at the living room, which seemed the obvious choice for an intimate conversation like the one they were about to have.

He was still deciding when Sharona appeared beside him, ordering, "Go sit in the living room. I have to go change," before exiting to her bedroom.

Monk rolled his shoulder, then reluctantly sat down in the armchair that was exactly in-between two small end tables. He had arranged it that way the last time he was there, and he usually had to rearrange them each time, with Benjy being a 12-year-old boy and all.

There _was_ a loveseat on the right side of the armchair, but he didn't want to look like he _wanted _this talk to lead somewhere. Besides, it wouldn't be even if he was sitting on it by himself, unless...

No, he couldn't do that. Sharona was right in the next room. He couldn't imagine Trudy being there. This was Sharona's house. As much as he hated to admit it, it would be like Trudy was intruding on them.

He looked heavenward, begging silently for her forgiveness. He had promised when they had exchanged their vows that he would be faithful 'until death parts us.' Even when that happened, he wasn't ready. He still loved Trudy, but he believed he was ready now. He was ready to move on.

Step 3: Sharona stood in front of her bedroom mirror in her underwear, trying to decide what to wear. She held up a jersey dress – too awkward to sit in. She threw that on the floor and picked something up from the closet floor, sniffed it, and threw it at her clothes hamper with a grimace.

Sighing, she blew a strand of hair out of her eyes before slumping onto the bed.

"What am I doing? All we're doing is _talking_, and it's not like I'm on a hot date or something," Sharona muttered to herself. "I mean, it's just Adrian. The most he'll say about my outfit is that there's lint on it or something. God forbid he actually compliment me on it."

She realized she was starting to sound bitter and annoyed, and sighed again. "I can't let him get to me tonight. I refuse to be annoyed by anything he does tonight, even if he spends our entire conversation rearranging the magazines on my end table. Tonight is about being honest with each other, and letting everything out."

Suddenly, she chuckled as she realized her hypocrisy. "Adrian would really have a good time with that one. 'Remember being honest?' Yeah, and then he'd bring up the whole elephant thing."

A knock on her bedroom door jolted her out of her thoughts. "Sharona, are you coming out? My schedule is going to be all messed up if we don't hurry," Monk informed her.

Sharona panicked. What if he tried coming in? She wasn't even dressed! Walking in right now would be like walking in on a Victoria's Secret shoot. "Uh...," she faltered, trying to think of something to say. "I'm just...uh...cleaning! Yes, I'm just picking up a few things. I'll be out in a minute."

She waited for a reply from him. "Adrian? Did you hear me? I said..." She was cut off suddenly.


	5. The Last Step

A/N: Just a question (and you'll probably see this in new chapters of all my stories): If this were on the show, would you watch it? And tell me why or why not. I'm just curious as to what people are looking for. Thanks.

Chapter 5: The Last Step

"Alright, I'll wait for you in the living room," Monk replied.

Sharona let out the breath she was holding and quickly stood up, grabbed the first thing she saw and put it on. She smoothed her skirt out and studied her reflection in the mirror. "It's not Gucci, but it'll do." With that, she flung open her bedroom door and prepared to face Adrian.

It was finally time. Time for Step 4. This talk was finally going to happen.

Sharona walked into the living room and spotted Monk sitting in the armchair (maybe she could prod him to the loveseat), rearranging her magazines, just as she figured he would be.

"You doing it by size or title?" she asked, scaring him.

"Uh," he said, picking up the scattered magazines, "both." He turned to face her, taking in her appearance. "You look nice."

Sharona looked surprised. "Thank you. I just grabbed the first thing I saw. So, should we get started?"

Monk nodded quickly. He felt like he was at his psychiatrist's. Maybe he _should_ move over to the loveseat. Sharona was sitting on one side, so it would be balanced if he sat there. The way it was, half the sofa was going unoccupied, so it would only make sense for him to join her.

"Can I – can I sit by you?" he asked timidly, like he was afraid she'd say no.

Sharona blinked, surprised yet again. "Yeah, sure." She scooted over a little, and turned to face him. "I just wanted to tell you that I feel so much better now that you've agreed to this talk."

"Me too," he responded, trying to avoid looking into her eyes. The last time he did that...he almost committed an unthinkable act. He couldn't kiss Sharona! He couldn't kiss anybody...but especially not Sharona. She had kissed so many men...well, maybe not _that_ many, but...

"Adrian?" Sharona asked, touching his arm. He looked down at her hand, her perfectly manicured, but obviously fake, nails. Slowly, he reached up and took her hand in his, lightly moving his thumb across her fingers, taking note of every line on her ivory skin.

Sharona watched his act with interest, then averted her gaze to his face. He looked so intense, so focused on studying her hand like it was the prep book for the SAT's. She didn't want to ruin the moment, but she knew he was just trying to avoid talking to her.

She gently squeezed his hand, startling him at first, but then causing him to look up and into her eyes.

That was a mistake, he told himself. Now he wasn't going to be able to concentrate on anything. He could read her like those cheap tabloid newspapers she was always reading. When he looked in her eyes, he could see it all. All her thoughts were scrawled on the chalkboard expanse of her mind. He saw the familiar scribbles of her handwriting, letting him know that she didn't really want to talk, either. But she wasn't avoiding the talk. No, she didn't want to talk, but she wanted to tell him in a different way.

He closed his eyes, then let them drift open to focus on Sharona's beautiful little befuddled expression. He couldn't help but smile. Trudy was right. Everything happens for a reason. God just wants us to be happy.

He lifted his hand to her face, brushing an errant curl away from her cheek. "I just want to be happy," he found himself whispering. All rational thoughts were betrayed as pure emotion kicked in and he leaned towards her.

Sharona began to breathe erratically. Funny, she was thinking, _he's _the one with the disorder and _I'm _the one having a panic attack. Her eyes fluttered shut as she prepared for the most interesting kiss of her life.

Monk quickly pressed his lips to hers before his sane mind could get back, and discovered that the act itself wasn't really that horrible. Not as much fun as vacuuming, but not an entirely terrible sensation.

Sharona moved her hand to his back. She was secretly hoping he wouldn't remember why he shouldn't be kissing her, but she knew he would think of it eventually.

A shrill ring suddenly startled both of them. They jumped guiltily away from each other, like they got caught smoking by the principal. Sharona looked at Monk, who was looking down at his hands. She realized she couldn't talk to him right then and ran to answer the phone.

"Sharona Fleming," she said into the phone. Back on the loveseat, Monk was in a daze. He actually did it. He kissed Sharona. And he didn't entirely hate it. And she didn't seem to, either. That was a good sign.

Sharona walked back into the living room, and from where she was standing, with the dining room light shining over her shoulder, she looked like an angel.

"That was Captain Stottlemeyer. Apparently there's been a bit of a disaster at the police ball. He wants us back there."

He looked dismayed. Not because they had to leave, not because the captain would surely be asking them questions, but because Sharona appeared to have forgotten entirely about the kiss.

She hadn't, of course. It was just that she was trying to put on a professional façade if they were going on a ca- aw, who am I kidding? She was still thinking about it. What did this mean for them? Maybe it was just like he said – he got caught up in the moment. It could happen to anyone, right?

Not to him. She had said it earlier, and she still believed it. But she couldn't deal with it right then. They had a case to deal with, and that was ultimately more important than her love life.

But it didn't feel like it to her.

She turned to Monk. "We can...talk once we're done at the ball. I know we're not done here."

"Oh, okay," Monk agreed, a little relieved that she didn't totally forget the fact that he kissed her.

"You ready to go?" she asked him, causing him to look up at her. He nodded slightly and rose, following Sharona out the door and, after thinking about it for a minute, placing his hand on the small of her back.

Sharona was startled at first, but then looked over at him with a pleased look on her face.

Oh, yeah, there was definitely going to be _something _going on when they got back to her house.


	6. Bombs Away

Chapter 6: Bombs Away

Monk and Sharona arrived back at the restaurant in their street clothes, both feeling out of place as they walked in, but their moods changing when they saw the disaster the captain had been speaking of.

"Oh my," Sharona started.

"God," Monk finished for her. They quickly ran over to Stottlemeyer and his wife, who were sitting amongst a pile of rubble that was formerly the orchestra pit.

"Captain!" Sharona exclaimed, rushing up to him. "What happened?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out," Stottlemeyer admitted. "Karen and I were out dancing when someone screamed bomb and everyone rushed out. We called the bomb squad, but we were still on the phone with them when the bomb went off. Somehow, the pit was the only place damaged."

Monk was poking around in the debris, trying to find some clue as to what could have happened. There were so many possibilities for who could have been the target – someone in the SFPD, someone in the orchestra, the restaurant owner. A sudden thought came to him as he thought about how the possibilities for anything were endless, and his gaze drifted to Sharona. He tried to tell himself that he had to focus on the bombing – Sharona could wait. But that was where his thoughts were wrong. Sharona _couldn't _wait. He wasn't going to let this opportunity pass him by.

Sharona was still talking to Karen when he walked over by her. She turned and saw the desperate look on his face and excused herself from the conversation, pulling Monk off to the side. "Adrian, what is it? Do you have something? Should I call the captain over..."

"No!" Monk interrupted. "I mean, no, it's not about the case."

Sharona looked down at her feet. She had a feeling he wanted to talk about the kiss. She wanted to, as well, but she knew they had to wait until this case was solved. The talk could take awhile, and time wasn't something that could be wasted when people's lives were in the balance.

She finally looked up at him and put her hand on his arm. "I know you want to talk about it, but now isn't the right time. We have to wait. This case is going to affect more people, and it's more important that we find out who's behind this. But I promise that as soon as this is all over, we will talk."

He looked disheartened at her words, but then remembered he had a job to do. He couldn't let Stottlemeyer down...if he could solve this; it might help him get back on the force. If he could be a cop again...then he'd really be happy. And if he could be a cop with Sharona by his side, he'd be even happier. His mouth turned up at the corners at that thought, and he practically skipped back to the smoldering pit.

Sharona watched his actions and smirked to herself. The captain was watching the entire exchange with interest, and when Monk went back to check out the crime scene, he decided to interrogate a suspect in this new occurrence. Namely, Sharona.

He sidled his way over to her, checking to see if Monk was watching. "Sharona," he greeted sternly when he arrived, causing her to jump a little and look up at him with questioning eyes. However, unlike Monk, her eyes didn't faze the captain. "I know it's not really any of my business, and usually I don't care about the personal lives of my staff, but is there something going on with you and Monk that I should know about?"

Sharona shrugged nonchalantly, thinking about what Adrian would want her to say. He probably wouldn't want anyone knowing that they kissed. It _could_ just be a one-time thing, after all. To be completely honest, though, she didn't _want_ it to be a one-time thing. She really believed he should be trying to move on with his life, finding someone new to spend his life with, someone that could understand if they weren't his greatest love. She knew she would never measure up to Trudy, but she wasn't trying to be Trudy. She was trying to be herself. Sharona Fleming. And she knew that's all Adrian wanted her to be, too. That's all that mattered.

Finally, she turned back to the captain and answered him. "No, Captain, everything between Adrian and me is perfect."

The captain raised an eyebrow at her and said, "That's what I'm curious about. You two seem to be a bit occupied with something else. And I can't help but noticing that you aren't arguing like usual. Of course, Karen thinks you two are in love, but that's absolutely preposterous. Isn't it?"

Sharona looked a little nervous at his words, but tried to shrug them off. "Yeah, you're right. We barely get along half the time as it is. Why would we be in love?" She laughed timidly, knowing she had probably aroused more suspicion than contained it.

Monk looked over and saw the captain questioning Sharona, which made him a little leery. He knew he should be more concerned with the case, but he couldn't let Stottlemeyer find out that he kissed Sharona! He'd never hear the end of it. Not to mention that Disher would never speak to him again.

He walked over to Sharona and stood beside her, facing the captain. "Is something wrong, Captain?" he asked, rolling his shoulder a little.

"No, no, everything seems to make sense now," he responded, a slight knowing grin on his face as he turned and returned to his wife and Lieutenant Disher.

Monk watched the captain walking away and asked Sharona, "What did you say?"

Sharona turned to him incredulously. "I didn't say anything! I thought about it, but then I realized you probably wouldn't want me to. He asked if there was something going on between us. I think he knows a lot more than he's letting on. And Karen, well, I think Karen's a lot smarter than she acts. We're going to have to tell them something."

"After the case," was all Monk had to say in response. He couldn't put this case off any longer. It was time to get down and dirty (well, as dirty as Monk got, which wasn't dirty at all) with the mysterious bombing of the orchestra pit.


	7. Uncovering Clues

Chapter 7: Uncovering Clues

Monk continued to sift through the ashes - literally - of the pit, hoping to find something that would lead to the cause of the bombing. Finally, he found just what he was looking for.

"Sharona, look at this," he said, walking over to her with something charred in his hand.

"What the hell is that?" she asked, barely touching it with one of her perfectly manicured nails.

"It's just the piece of evidence I needed," he said, not completely answering her question.

"Yeah, I kinda figured that. I was just wondering what it's supposed to be."

"Well, I think it's the bell from a trumpet," he explained, "and this residue inside it seems to suggest that this is where the bomb was placed."

Sharona looked confused. "Why would someone put a bomb in a trumpet?"

Monk shrugged. "Maybe someone wanted that player dead."

"Or," Sharona broke in, having a theory of her own, "the person in front of them." He gave her a skeptical look. "It makes sense. If a bomb goes off, wouldn't the person directly in front of it be harmed the most?"

"But there would've been a music stand in the way," Monk rationalized.

"So? If the bomb was strong enough, it would blow the stand to pieces." Monk pondered her theory for a moment, then spoke.

"The only question now is, how would one activate a bomb inside a trumpet? Surely the player would realize the bomb was in there."

"Not if they were playing something that required a mute." It was Captain Stottlemeyer, joining Monk and Sharona in their investigation. Monk gave him a questioning look. "It's possible that if there was a mute in the trumpet, they wouldn't notice something else in there. I just finished talking to some guys from the bomb squad, and they say it would be possible to activate a bomb by sliding something against it."

"So the mute..." Monk started.

"Would set off the bomb," Stottlemeyer finished.

"Ka-boom," Sharona stated softly. Monk looked over at her again, realizing that she just might be a very good detective on this particular case. After all, she had realized a few possibilities that he hadn't even thought of.

"Sharona," he began, catching her attention, "what was it you said about who the bomber wanted to hurt?"

"The person sitting in front of the trumpet player," she supplied. "But if there was something in the trumpet when the bomb went off..."

"Then that would've muffled the explosion," Monk realized. "Maybe the goal wasn't to hurt anybody at all."

"Then what _was_ the goal?" Sharona asked.

"To draw attention away from something in this pit," Stottlemeyer answered. "There's gotta be something in this pit, something that the bomber didn't want us to see."

"I guess we're going to have to do some digging around," Sharona said, looking over at a very anxious Monk.

"Can - can you do the digging? I don't want to get all dirty," Monk volunteered Sharona for the job.

"Good thing I'm not wearing my dress," she muttered, handing him her purse. "I'll let you know if I turn up anything interesting."

Monk took her purse gingerly, and watched as she manuevered her way around the remains of the horn section and began sifting through the debris littering the pit.

"Monk!" Stottlemeyer yelled to him, causing Monk to turn and walk towards him reluctantly, looking back at Sharona every few seconds.

"What is it, Captain?" Monk asked, lightly setting Sharona's purse on a nearby table.

"This is Pierre," Stottlemeyer responded, pulling forward a jet-haired young man in a waiter's uniform. "He claims he saw the bomber."

Back in the orchestra pit, Sharona unsheathed something shiny and held it up to the light. After reading the inscription, she realized what was going on and quickly turned around, stumbling.

"Oh my God, Adrian," she muttered, holding it up. "I think I found it!" She lifted her head and looked straight into the face of...the bomber himself.

"Sorry, I thought you were someone else," Sharona apologized, laughing nervously. "He's over there. I'll just go..."

The bomber grabbed her arm before she could make her way to Monk. "You're not going anywhere, lady. Give it to me and no one gets hurt."

"Okay," Sharona squeaked, timidly handing it to him. As soon as their hands touched, she screamed, "Adrian! It's him!"

Monk, Stottlemeyer, Randy, and Karen all turned around to see Sharona being dragged off by the bomber.

"Oh my God, Sharona!" Monk cried, and the group ran towards the pair.

"I should've known you were with the cops," the bomber relayed to Sharona as he tightened his hold on her, a hand over her mouth. "I was just going to let you go, but I guess you leave me no choice now. I have to kill you."

Sharona's eyes grew wide and one thought raced through her mind: Please, Adrian, save me.


	8. Held Captive

Chapter 8: Held Captive

Monk paced back and forth outside an abandoned warehouse they had followed the bomber to. The SWAT team was positioned around the building, preparing to take a shot at the bomber once Sharona was out of the way.

Stottlemeyer and Disher left their spot next to the Captain's car, walking over to the overly anxious Monk.

"Monk," the Captain said, causing Monk to turn and look at them.

"What? What is it? Is she okay?" Monk questioned him. "I _have_ to get in there. I have to protect Sharona."

"Monk, the SWAT team has everything covered," Disher assured him, attempting to lay a hand on Monk's shoulder.

Monk threw Disher's arm away, starting to pace furiously. "No, no, you just don't get it. I can't lose Sharona. If something happens to her, it will be all my fault."

Stottlemeyer sighed. "Come on, Monk. You can't blame yourself for what happened."

"Yes," Monk disagreed, "I can. I went over to talk to you, leaving Sharona all alone." He stopped pacing long enough to confide to the Captain, "I can't lose Sharona. Not like I lost Trudy."

The Captain rubbed a hand across his face, stopping at his mouth. "Monk...Adrian...nothing bad is going to happen to Sharona. These guys," he motioned around at the SWAT team, "are professionals. And this guy is obviously an amateur.They can handle him."

Monk turned from Stottlemeyer, gazing at the warehouse. "I hope you're right." Stottlemeyer clapped Monk on the shoulder and walked back over by Disher. "I wonder what's going on in there..."

...Inside the warehouse, Sharona was tied to a wooden chair the bomber had found, and the bomber was loading a gun, in case she decided to pull a fast one and try to escape.

"Do you think you could untie me?" Sharona asked, annoyed.

The bomber looked at her incredulously. "Do you think I'm stupid? Like I'm going to untie you. You'd just escape and run off to your precious little cops." He looked around suspiciously, checking for possible law enforcement outside. "Ya hear that, coppers? You ain't getting me or your precious little Sharona!"

As soon as he made that last comment, he regretted it. "How the hell did you know my name?" Sharona questioned in a low voice.

The bomber turned back to Sharona, trying to act like she was stupid. "I heard one of those cops say your name. You know, that Adrian guy." He looked very proud of himself for coming up with a good answer.

Sharona still looked suspicious. "Yeah, I know 'that Adrian guy.' How do you know he's a cop?"

"He was at the ball, wasn't he?" the bomber asked, figuring he had this interrogation in the bag.

"So what?" Sharona asked. "You were there, and you're not a cop. I'm not a cop. Neither are the waiters, the caterers, or the trumpet player that you almost killed. And all because you didn't want the police to find your hidden stash of stolen cash."

The bomber suddenly pulled a knife from inside his coat and held it to Sharona's throat. "You mention _anything _about that money to the cops and you're a dead woman," he warned.

Outside the warehouse, a SWAT team member announced, "He just pulled a knife on her."

Monk quickly started for the warehouse. The officer that saw them held him back. "Captain!" Monk called out, panicking. "I have to get in there! He's going to kill her!"

Stottlemeyer rushed over, assuring him, "This guy isn't going to do anything to Sharona. Now that he's made his move, we're going to make ours." He turned to the SWAT officer, announcing, "It's time."

The officer nodded briskly and ran to inform the other officers. Monk turned to the building, then back to Stottlemeyer, a truly worried and frightened look in his eyes. "She _is_ going to be okay, isn't she?"

Stottlemeyer glanced at Monk, surprised to see such a high level of concern on his face. He awkwardly laid a hand on Monk's shoulder, saying, "Yeah, she's going to be okay." Monk smiled a little, and Stottlemeyer decided to ask the question he had been wondering about all evening long. "You love her, don't you?"

Monk gulped. How was he supposed to answer _that_?

(hehe, aren't I evil? Hey, at least I updated. Let me know what you think!)


End file.
